Getting It Straight
by Anera527
Summary: Why did it have to be Johnny? Pony is hurting over his best friends death, until he finds comfort in his brothers, who set him straight.


**Getting it Straight**

As I walked home, blood dripping from my lip and a black eye forming, not only did I shudder from the pain coursing through my sore and beaten body, I winced at the thought of facing my oldest brother, Darry. I had really done it this time. While at school, this one snobbish rich kid-- we greasers call the rich kids Socs-- made fun of someone I had been close friends to, and had just lost in a terrible accident. I was the first one to throw a punch, and that guy was a lot heavier than I had taken him for. Since we were at school, even though the day was done, I thought he wouldn't do much except bloody my nose and bust my lip. Well... he did a little bit more than that. By the time he was done, which wasn't very long since a teacher intervened, he'd cut my lip open, given me a black eye, pounded me in the ribs and stomach and bruised my face. Bot me and the Soc were sent to the principal's office, and I was given a week's detention at lunch. I don't use my head... which gets on Darry's nerves, nearly sends him up the wall.

As I walked up my porch's steps, I felt butterflies in my stomach-- Darry was home already. I walked in, letting the door slam loudly. Darry himself was sitting in Dad's old armchair, reading the newspaper like he always does. I gulped in spite of myself. Darry is six-foot two, broad-shouldered and muscular... and very intimidating, at times downright scary. His eyes are pale, blue-green, and they seem to be made of ice. Ever since mom and Dad were killed in an auto wreck, Darry's not only been my twenty-year old oldest brother, he's been the parent to me and my seventeen year-old brother, Sodapop. I've always had trouble understanding him, and up until a couple weeks ago, he hollered at me all the time and was real strict. That's gotten better, but with the incident that happened today, I didn't know how he'd react.

He looked up and by his expression, I knew he knew what had happened.

"Damn it, Ponyboy!" he sighed halfway through a conversation. "What am I gonna do with you? You were the one who started the fight. Tell me; why?" He had been like this the entire time, quiet, and I could tell he was holding his anger in check. "Answer me, Pony. Why'd you start it?"

"Because..." I clenched my teeth as he wound a piece of cloth around my cut arm. "Because he talked about Johnny."

_That _sure surprised him. He looked at me, eyes hard, frowning. "What did the Soc say?"

"He said there were no greasers in heaven, and Johnny went to... as he put it... where Mom and Dad were." That had hit me hard, even harder than when my parents died. "I couldn't stand listening to that. And he went on to say that _I _was the one who caused Johnny to die. He said that if I hadn't run into that burning church, Johnny wouldn't have followed me, the flaming beam wouldn't have hit him, and he wouldn't have died." Even though I was fourteen and a greaser, I felt tears sting my eyes. Johnny Cade, a quiet, black-eyed and haired sixteen-year old, had been my best friend. He had had it awful rough at home; his father was always beating him up and his mother was always yelling at him, leaving him jumpy and nervous and shy. I looked at Darry.

"Was it my fault that Johnny died?"

He was so shocked his jaw nearly dropped. We were back in the living room, and he sat in the armchair and motioned me over. Though Darry and I weren't close, and even though sitting together was kind of weird, I needed the comfort and sat on his lap.

"No, Pony, it wasn't your fault," he said slowly. "It wasn't anybody's fault. It was his _choice_. There's a big difference between those two things. Johnny _chose_ to follow you into that church, he _chose _to help those little kids out. He could have been like Dally, and not help the children, but, in my opinion, he chose the right path."

"But that choice led to death," I said. "Why did _he _have to be the one to die?"

Darry brushed my hair back. "I don't know, baby. Nobody knows, and we'll never know. God must have thought it was time to go. We'll just never know." He paused for a minute, then continued. "Ponyboy, Johnny will never be truly be dead as long as we remember him... if we don't forget him and Dally both. And we'll never forget. Both of them are in our hearts and in spirit; you've just gotta make yourself believe that." We sat there in complete silence for a couple minutes as I sat there, thinking over what Darry had said-- he was right. He looked down at me. "Do you have homework tonight?"

"Yeah."

All right," he said, gripping my shoulder. "Get started while I go make dinner. I'll send Sodapop up to talk to you when he comes home." I nodded and headed off to my room to start my homework.

I talked to Sodapop when we were in bed that night. Sodapop and I have always been close, and we tell each other secrets and stick up for one another when we get into trouble. Soda and I don't really like the same things, though-- he likes cars... and girls. He's real handsome, with shining wheat-gold hair and lively brown eyes that always seem to be laughing and carefree and reckless all at the same time. I know I can trust him to keep a secret and I know he tells me the truth.

"Soda?"

"Hmmmmm?"

"Was it my fault Johnny died?"

"What?!" He nearly squeaked, he was so shocked. He stared at me as if I was off my rocker. "Is that a trick question?" His jaw was on the bed, he was that surprised.

I shook my head. "No."

"He sighed. "No, Pony, it wasn't your fault-- it was nobody's fault. It was his _choice_; that's the difference. He chose to follow you. And I truly believe that if it hadn't been for Johnnycakes, I wouldn't be talking to my kid brother right now. And no one here or our friends thinks different. People may call Johnny a murderer for killin' Bob Sheldon in self-defense-- they may call you dirt-- but both you and Johnny were god-sent. Don't let anyone make you think differently."

I grinned and snuggled up closer to him. He put his arm around my shoulders and held me close.

"'Night, Soda."

"'Night, Pony."

A/N; All right, it's done. It was just something I came up with out of the blue. Now, you know my opinion about whether Pony caused Johnny's death, because what Darry and Soda tell Pony is actually what I truelly feel. But what about you? Do you think that it was Ponyboy's fault that Johnny died?


End file.
